Superpredators
by thereisafire
Summary: "Erika neatly stacks the books in a bag after Walker wipes away the blood from the dustcovers." How Erika and Walker spend their nights.


Erika neatly stacks the books in a bag after Walker wipes away the blood from the dustcovers.

They'll need them for the job tomorrow, so she leaves them near the door. Her hat goes on top of the bag, so that she won't forget to take both. She'd forgotten once, and that had been a rather awkward time - they'd had to resort to reciting popular titles instead, and the man had been too panicked to choose.

The man today eventually chose -man, which made them smile, because they finally had a chance to use the gasoline. Walker had held him down, Erika had poured it on his left arm, and then they had to move outside because Togusa was shrieking about how he'd never get the smell out of the vehicle. The flames were beautiful, sparks lighting up the deserted alley, and the arm hadn't been as claw-like as she'd expected, but it was red and raw and singed. Walker had kissed her cheek gently, silently congratulating her on a job well done.

As they started carving the scar into the man's cheek, he started screaming, a long, loud wail, and didn't stop. A pity his Innocence didn't awaken with the trauma, because they were probably the closest things to Akuma that the man would ever meet.

There's a purpose to this ritual - they could simply toss the books into the bag with their toolbox, but that just wouldn't be respectful. They have to stack them neatly and take good care of them - they'd never operate without taking good care of their implements. Knives are sharpened, books are wiped down. Once the books are neatly packed into the bag, they can put their dreary jobs out of their mind until the morning.

And after showering, they can head into the bedroom. Erika decides to lock the bathroom door tonight, she just isn't in the mood for acting tsundere if Walker tries to walk in on her, and she can use the time to plan their bedroom activities. It's her turn to decide and she's in the mood for simple, so maybe Shonen Jump, and the titles of series run through her head as she lathers up her hair, scrubs her body with her special Totoro-shaped sponge, then turns the water on again so that it washes all the pink-tinged foam away. She checks her face in the mirror to make sure there's no residual blood, then wraps her bathrobe around herself and steps out.

It's Walker's turn to use the bathroom. Over the sound of the shower, she can hear him singing the full version of Cruel Angel's Thesis, which trails off into humming halfway through when he mixes up the verses.

The first thing she does when she enters their bedroom is to turn the standees towards the wall. They're such loyal customers that their usual manga store lets them transport the standees back once promotions end, and she doesn't want the front bits to get dirty with body fluids, it would disappoint the nice shopkeeper if he knew. Then again, it would also disappoint the shopkeeper if he found out that his books were indirectly implicated in the cases of the mysteriously mutilated bodies that turn up from time to time. (Manga has _really_ helped them vary their modus operandi - this way none of the bodies can be linked to each other.)

Previously, they dressed up in costumes, but that created unnecessary expense - Walker had insisted on buying and not renting, as what they did to the costumes in their nights of passion also tended to result in the costumes not being very intact in the end, or expensive dry-cleaning. It had also made them feel compelled to play their roles lest they betray the canon, and after their frequent arguments about characterisation, she ended up straddling Walker and threatening to find a new playmate. That was a lie, of course, it's rare to find someone who can _get_ both sides of her - the shameless fangirl, and the merciless killer.

So now they pick an inspiration for a night, then play their game. She sits on the bed and fidgets as she waits for Walker.

Finally, he's done showering. He hasn't bothered to put on any clothes, and simply strides into the room, stark naked. She drops her bathrobe on the floor, and pads across the room to hold him.

She can feel his throat move, as she has her cheek pressed against it. He asks about the plan. She tells him, and he snorts. It's rare that they do Bleach, and it's a strange scenario that she's set.

Erika looks at Walker, and he's highly amused, shoulders shaking with laughter, but his eyes are open and he's ready.

She braces herself as Walker takes the opportunity to slam her into the wall. Their shelves of manga shake with the impact.

"So...my sword, _tell me your name_." His hands are on her throat, heavy enough to threaten, but with a light grip to avoid serious bruising.

She twists out of his grasp, headbutts him, then gets in a blow to his chest. While he's wheezing, she steps ten paces away. Walker licks his lips with anticipation, ready for the next round, cracking his neck and his knuckles.

"You'll have to figure my name out for yourself, Yumasaki Walker," and she smirks, reaching to the bed to grab her switchblade.

He laughs, one hand scrabbling on the dresser for his favourite small blade. Once it's in his grasp, he appears calmer. Less wild, more restrained, more elegant. There is no wasted movement in his actions, which Erika realises as he moves towards her. It's so fast that she could swear he'd learnt flash-step. She parries, feints and tries to sweep his legs from under him, but he's faster than before, with her right wrist in his grasp, bleeding from a scratch on his cheek. There's a cut on her arm, and beads of blood starts to well up.

She glares at him defiantly. She's not easy prey. He knows that she's not easy prey. She could effortlessly break out of his grasp, and they could continue this dance for hours and hours, evenly matched, mirroring each other. They understand each other so perfectly that they both know how a serious fight would eventually end - knives at each other's throats, a standoff, or even mutual death - and they're not going to do that when there are so many _new_ series this season, so many more people to torture, so many more things to do with each other before they burn the world down. Walker can feel her pulse throbbing beneath her skin, and licks the cut on her arm lovingly. He tightens his grip on her wrist, but she refuses to drop the switchblade.

She sighs and wishes it was one of their rare days off so they could have all night, but that would interfere with their plans for tomorrow. Walker breaks character for a moment to kiss her on the nose, and she can tell he feels the exact same way. If she doesn't let him achieve shikai _soon_, neither of them will sleep tonight.

She closes her eyes, and Walker gently takes the switchblade from her hand.

He shoves her onto the bed. Her legs wrap around him as he uses his weight to pin her down, and they both grind against each other. She's hot and wet and slick, eager for him, and it's easy for him to push in. Matching each other's rhythm is effortless, as it always is, hips moving up and down, his grip on her shoulders, her nails digging into his back, leaving red furrows in his pale skin. Their breath comes in short gasps, interspersed with whimpers of "yes", "more" and "if you hold back I'll kill you".

He's panting with desire, having released his grip on her to tease her nipples with his thumb. She responds to the delicate touch by speeding up the rhythm, forcing his cock to go deeper inside her, and he furthers the touch, enveloping one of her breasts with his hand, her hard nipple against his soft palm. Her eyes are half-lidded as she's lost in the sensation of Walker's touch on her body. She's close now, and his eyes are open, just _looking_ at her body. She focuses, and meets his gaze defiantly. He grins.

It won't be long now.

She wonders what her name will be.

"Shatter the earth, Kiba no Kousagi," he whispers in her ear, and she finds her release with him.

Walker's always momentarily dazed after an orgasm, which means that she has to extricate herself from him and gently rearrange his limbs into a more comfortable position before they can curl up around each other and drift off to sleep. His eyelids are fluttering - she imagines he's rebooting his brain into a more normal mode.

She strokes the scratches on his back tenderly, and thinks of the day they'll try to achieve bankai.

* * *

**Translation notes: **Kiba no Kousagi - Fanged Rabbit.


End file.
